


Mumriks are not Mymbles

by orphan_account



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Divorce, Dysfunctional Family, Other, also this is my first time posting on AO3 how do you tag things, i have issues and i am projecting onto snufkin, kinda? it’s suggested i guess, no beta we die like men, poor lad i make him go through so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 11:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20705309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Snufkin is done with living with his mother. But what would he do? Or more importantly, what can he do?





	Mumriks are not Mymbles

Snufkin ran through the woods. His feet barreling through the leaves that littered the ground. Just as his thoughts had moments ago. They’d finally reached him. After years of creeping towards his mind. Waiting to pounce on him. To finally break him. And Snufkin had finally snapped.

Just like the dead log had under his feet.

The small Mumrik cursed to himself, picking himself up again just as he had all those times. And he was done. For good this time too. 

Snufkin kept streaming down the line of trees, his legs taking himself as far as they could until he finally came across the little cave he found a few months ago. The cave served him a great deal too, it was amazing to come to after another misunderstanding with his mother. 

The Mymble, despite having many children, couldn’t quite understand Snufkin. She can’t wrap her head around the concept of introversion, especially in Snufkin’s case. In which it was very extreme. And to which Snufkin found out that social anxiety (or so that's what the book his older sister gave him said) and being extremely introverted wasn’t a very… complimentary combination.

And so he stumbled down into the cave, its mossy sides and cool ground soothing his uproar of emotions. 

So the Mumrik cried more than he ever had. And ever thought he could.

Snufkin cried out the years of pent up anger. The anger caused by none other than his mother. 

Mymble wasn’t good with Snufkin. It didn’t take a Hemulen to figure it out either. She couldn’t understand him. She didn’t take time to figure out how he worked. The Mymble only knew how Mymbles worked. Snufkin was a Mymble. But he was also a Mumrik. And that side just so happened to be the one that he takes after. 

Mumriks were independent by nature. They were vagabonds. Not meant to be caged by a home. Mymbles, on the other hand, were sociable, homely, simple.

They didn’t blend very well.

Snufkin had never liked living with his mother. She was too… affectionate. She sheltered him. She didn’t know how he worked. How Snufkin’s apparent ‘loneliness’ wasn’t what The Mymble thought it was at all. While the Mumrik had thought about telling her these things, he knew it would only make it worse.

The feeling was so vivid it felt more like a memory. It haunted him. Like the undead had come back to life just to give him a hug that sent his very soul away from his body.

They were at the farmers market, his two older sisters and him, along with their horde of little siblings. He was just another face in the crowd. But he stuck out from his sisters and brothers. His fluffy tail and brown hair making him appear extremely different from the rest. Not to mention the signs of fur starting to grow on his paws and nose. 

Sometimes people would give him glares. He knew what this meant. 

The typical stare he got from strangers would mean, “Stay away, criminal. Your kind isn’t welcome here.” He wasn’t offended. Just distraught people would assume so much based on his looks alone.

But the sheer tone his mother could give him could destroy any strange glare a passerby could.

It would make its way out whenever Snufkin mentioned his father… Or wanting to travel with him. The subject was taboo to his mother. It was unspeakable.

But he did speak. And he had spoken.

But Snufkin was luckily not in a crowded farmers market. He was alone. In the cave. Crying. Because he did exactly what he was to never do. To talk of his father.

He longed to travel with The Joxter. His father understood him. He knew how Snufkin worked. They were both very similar you see, both quite introverted, independent, free-thinking. They even looked quite similar. Though Snufkin didn’t think this was too surprising, as they were both Mumriks.

When Snufkin brought up wanting to live with his father, The Mymble was livid. Her son? Not wanting to live with her? Impossible. 

“A child should be with their mother.” 

“He just told you to say that. Didn’t he?”

“Life isn’t fair. You can’t always get what you want.”

“You don’t even know what you want. How can you expect me to let you make this big of a decision?”

These were all her go-to counter-arguments. Not like they changed Snufkin’s opinion.

But they did make him cry. They made him tremble and shake with worry. How would he get away? If he even could, that is.

It would be like a glimpse of heaven to be travelling with his father. 

A glimpse that Snufkin would do almost anything for.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeeeeeeeaaaah this is me venting through fictional characters. also my first writing piece that i’ve actually finished? Anyways *coughs* the next fic is gonna have long chapters i swear. 
> 
> and how did i do?? this is my first time actually posting something.


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